


Eggsy and the Man with the Bulldog (or is that a Pug?)

by late_night



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/late_night/pseuds/late_night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy didn't particuarly hate his job as the secretary at the vet clinic. He didn't really like it either.</p><p>Then Harry-fucking-Hart had to walk through the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eggsy and the Man with the Bulldog (or is that a Pug?)

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet. Also un-betaed.
> 
> Not very happy how this one turned out but whatever, I wrote something for the newborn Kingsman fandom.
> 
> Reach my tumblr is late-night-with-dean-and-sam.tumblr.com if anyone wants to hit me with a prompt or just say hello!

It wasn't that Eggsy hated his job at the vet clinic, or even disliked his job. He couldn't say it was a  _great_ job, that's for sure, but it was better than flipping burgers or being a busboy. It was just a job, one he desperately needed to keep in order to keep his baby sister. So he held his sharp words whenever someone would come in with no obvious clue how to properly care for a pet or whenever someone on the phone wanted to know if they should bring they're dog or cat or _whatever_ in to be checked after some ridiculous accident that they tell him about because honestly, he's not the vet nor does he know anything past the basics of animal care. So he calmly tells them that they probably should bring them in, if for no other reason than for something for him to do (because taking down appointment times is very important, wither he knows about pet care or not). 

So no, it wasn't fair to say that Eggsy's hated his job. There were enjoyable moments too, like when an owner got the care he or she needed for their pets or when a dog would wag its tail happily after they got done with the vet. He liked the animals, he got to pet some of them every once and a while, especially the regulars. Well, perhaps not regulars, just those owners that were satisfiyed with the office that Eggsy worked at thus would come back when the need arose.

He watched as people came and went and he took appointments and smiled a hello and generally kept his mouth shut unless someone asked him a question. He'd make small talk with the people coming in and out and he'd go home at the end of the day and then wake up and do it again. It was a nice, predictable pattern and Eggsy could keep it that way.

He supposed that's why when Harry-fucking-Hart came through the doors with a small pug (or was it a bulldog?, Eggsy was an expert on many things and dog breeds were not one of them) held injured in his arms, Eggsy was far from prepared. 

He knew that he should be ashamed that his first thought was  _'Holy fuck he's hot.'_ rather than his immediate following thought of  _'where's the vet that dog needs help.'_ and then it didn't even register that the man was talking to him even though, yea, he should probably be listening.

Now this guy was looking at him expectantly and it was then he realized that  _'oh he's talking to me.'_  This immediately followed by his quiet "I'll get the vet." and before the guy could get another word in edge-wise, he was up and into the other room to get Roxy because he wasn't a fucking vet and he's going to say something incredbly dumb if he dosen't leave the room now and as he walks into Roxy's tankfully-empty office he realizes he could have literally just picked up the phone and it would have been quicker. 

But he didn't think of that so now he's in Roxy's office and she's looking at him expectantly and he's still completely tounge-tied. It takes him a moment before he can get out enough words to convey the idea that there's a dog in the front office that needs help and all he can think about it getting what he's assuming is its owner's number. 

Well maybe he didn't tell her that last part. 

And that's how he found himself alone with an incredibly hot, yet admittedly posh looking, man that still had a bit of blood on his suit that made him wonder why this man let Eggsy within 200 meters of him. That's when he realized that he still didn't know this guys name or the dog's and he realized that maybe he should just collect that information now but he still didn't trust his words so they sat in steady silence while waiting for Roxy to come back. _  
_

This thankfully happened about 25 minutes later when she emerged from her operating room.

"He'll make it," she said, adressing Mr. Hotness. "Your car didn't do too much damage, just a couple broken bones." 

"Good, good," the man said. "Do you know who's dog it is?"

"No," Roxy answered. "The owner has a week to claim him before I can allow anyone else to keep him."

"Oh?" he asked her. " _Oh_. I'm not considering-"

"Just think about it, Mr. Hart" she said. "Give Eggsy your information and he'll contact you."

With that she quickly turned and retreated into her office, once again leaving Eggsy and Mr. Hotn- Hart alone. 

"Harry Hart, he said when he approached Eggsy, who was now sitting quietly, forcing his mind to focus. 

He didn't say anything for a long moment before snapping out of his mind- his absolutely  _dirty, filthy_ mind. His hand flailed for a pen and he really must look like a fool right now, one hand trying to find a pen and his mind completely scattered. 

He then scribbled out the name and his phone number as he said it out.

Then he was gone. And Eggsy knew right then he was doomed.

* * *

Eggsy didn't really expect him to come back for the dog. Not really. Harry didn't look the lease bit interested before so he didn't know why he would be now.

Yet here he was, filling out the forms for the dog in the front desk room that was empty (how is it that every time he's around there's no one in the room?). 

"Does he have a name?" Harry asked, looking up from the clip board at him. 

"I've been calling him JB," Eggsy said, managing to answer right away. 

"After James Bond?" he inquired, looking at Eggsy curiously.

"Jack Bauer," Eggsy answered, slightly tentatively. 

Harry seemed to consider it for a minute. "It fits him." 

It was then Eggsy remembered that the dog was still in the back with a cast around its leg, Roxy was right: JB was very lucky, and Eggsy got up to retrieve him. 

When he returned, JB in his arms, Harry was done with the form and patiently waiting by the desk and Eggsy once again got that feeling like he shouldn't be anywhere near him and his completely posh suit. 

So Harry accepted the dog and slid the form off the clip board and on the post it note attached was a number. 

"So are you free Friday night?" Harry said from behind jim.

Yes, Eggsy was fucked. Truly and honestly fucked. And maybe liked his job a little bit more than he did at the beginning of the week. 

"Of course."

 


End file.
